A New Perspective
by Ms. Topaz
Summary: Bella is deaf. BPOV. How can it be that Bella cannot hear Edward's velvety voice? Intrigue! I was born deaf...this is my normal. How would you respond if I asked you what it was like to feel or taste?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I wish every night that I was Stephenie Meyer and that I own all Twilight and New Moon and Eclipse…but it never comes true -sniffs- **

I step off the airplane into the wet, humid air of Forks, Washington, already missing Phoenix and the dry heat. I scratch my head, causing several strands stand straight up in the air, and I lick my fingers, then try and pat the hair down.

I look around for my dad, but he's absent from my line of sight. Turning around in a circle, I let out a small, strangled cry of frustration. Where was Charlie? Several people turn around to stare at me as I turn circles, searching for my father. He was supposed to pick me up! I check my watch and then the time of scheduled arrival. Nope, my flight's right on time. So where is Charlie?!

A tap on my shoulder stops my spinning. There stands Charlie, a giant grin plastered on his face.

_Hi, Bella_, He signs, spelling out my name (There aren't any signs for names).

Hi, Ch-Dad. I write back. He wraps me in a big hug, swinging me around. I've always been small enough for him to do that. And it's not like I can protest, anyway. Besides, it makes him happy. So why not indulge him?

_How was your trip?_

I shrug my shoulders and tilt my head slightly to one side, the universal sign-not official ASL, but everyone knows what it stands for-for _okay_. That made him smile. _The car is this way_. He points, grabs my bags, and heads off. I tag along obediently, answering his standard questions:

_How is Renee?_

Mom's fine.

_What about School?_

The same. Boring as always.

That got a small laugh out of him as we piled into the car. The cruiser, actually. Charlie is Chief of Police in Forks, and this was the only car he owned. That was the deciding factor in my internal argument about whether or not to buy myself a car. I did NOT want to mooch rides in any car that had flashing blue and red lights on its roof.

After several years of driving, I've found that it's hard-well, more like impossible-to sign while doing so. So I always carry a little notepad with me. Don't worry about your safety-I don't write when I'm driving; I scribble down what I want to say when I'm at a stop-sign or red light.

After we're several miles down the streets, and the airport has long since melted into the dark emerald trees surrounding us, Charlie motions that he wants to write in my notepad.

_Hon-I've bought you a car._ Charlie wrote. I raise my eyebrows and start writing.

Why?

I have to wait until we come to the next stop sign until I can get an answer, and it's mildly frustrating. I'm impatient, always have been.

_As a…sort of welcome home present._

Oh. Dad, you didn't need to. I was going to buy one myself. I had some money saved.

Again I have to wait until I get an answer as Charlie presses the gas pedal and takes off. I grind my teeth until the next intersection.

_It's okay. I wanted to do this for you._

When should I go pick it up? And where is it, anyway?

_Well, Bells, I already bought it-more like took it. Remember Billy Black? My friend from La Push?_

I nod my head and sign vaguely, remembering hazily a tall, impersonal man coming with Charlie and me on annual fishing trips when I came to visit, often bringing his twin daughters along as well. I scour my brain, and finally come up with their names: Rachel and Rebecca.

_He's in a wheelchair now, so I took his old car-truck, actually. It should be a good car for you._

I notice that he said 'good for you', instead of just 'good'. I narrow my eyes, and am about to write something sarcastic and scathing, but we pull into the driveway just then, so I put the notepad away and get out of the car, scrambling awkwardly on the wet gravel until I have to grab onto the car-door for support.

Instantly I spot my 'new' truck. It's big with a bulging cab and hood, it's rusty red-mostly just rusty-and it's so…perfect! I rush over to it and rub its fender. I think I've fallen in love with a truck.

Thanks, Charlie! I sign, and hug my father around the waist. He gruffly pats my back, but awkwardly hugs me back.

_You're welcome, Bella._

Charlie heaves my luggage out of the trunk of the cruiser and lugs my bags-just two, even combining both of our savings, Renee and I didn't have much money to buy much of a winter wardrobe-up the stairs to my room.

_I'll leave you alone so that you can unpack in peace_. Charlie signs, and heads back down the stairs. I smile wanly at the difference between my parents: Renee would have sat down on the edge of my bed, signing and chattering away about how much I would love it here, and all the new friends I was going to make, and what she was making for dinner that night. But Charlie left me alone, allowing me to sit on my bed and let a few tears trickle down my face.

I've exiled myself to my seventh layer of hell. Just to make my mom happy. It sounded like a good idea at the time, very self righteous, but now…

Now I'm having second thoughts.

But it did make Renee so happy…. Maybe I did do the right thing. She looked so sad when I told her I wanted to move to Forks and Charlie. But then I told her that she was free to travel with Phil, and it made her so much happier.

I skip dinner, claiming that I'm not hungry and that I just want to sleep. It's nerves more then anything, but I won't tell Charlie that. Charlie looks slightly hurt, but he signs that it's understandable, and hugs me goodnight, reminding me that I need to get a good sleep, because school starts tomorrow.

I groan (making an unpleasant sound I'm sure-Charlie flinches slightly) and trudge up the stairs to my room. School's bad enough. Especially high school. But somehow, in an odd way, it's almost better when you can't hear the whispers or giggles coming at you from all sides, penetrating and piercing. Sometimes it's better if you can't hear the negativity. But sometimes not. When you're wrapped in a cloak of silence, like I am, life is tougher and you can see the harsh realities close up. If you're deaf, you're forced to.

**I'm not sure whether or not to continue this one…I'm trying to overcome my writer's block on "The untold story". Maybe if I can finish that and get enough reviews on this I'll continue. I consider thirteen a good amount. But even if I reach that amount soon, it would be awhile before I could or would update anyway.**

**Review please! It makes me warm and fuzzy inside!**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Yes! Second chapter! I'm so glad that so many people took the time to review. Special thanks to SilverYouko300 for clarifying some specific points about ASL (American Sign Language) for me.

Also, in case you got confused, Bella's signing is underlined, Angela's is **Bold** and Charlie's is _italicized_. Just so you know. Sorry if I confused you guys last chapter.

Ahem. Sorry, I'm rambling. On with the story!

XXX

I wake up the morning after my arrival in Forks to dull grey light in my windows and Charlie shaking me. I miss Phoenix so much. I couldn't sleep at all-the wind whistling around the corners of the house made it impossible to fall and stay asleep.

_Time to get up._ He signs. _It's 6:20._ **(A/N: I know Charlie is usually gone when Bella gets up, but since she can't hear an alarm clock….)**

I look at him blearily, barely cracking one eye open. But that one eye is glaring at my father. The other is hidden underneath all my hair.

Really? I fumble. I hate signing right after I wake up: my fingers are…rusty from disuse. That would describe the feeling best. My finger joints area sore and crack when I move them.

Charlie just laughs at my expression, nods, and signals me to get downstairs.

I lie in bed for another couple of minutes; worry forming a hole in my stomach. I had never fit in at my high school in Phoenix-and there were over three thousand kids there. So how could I manage to find a role in a student body that had less then four hundred?

Finally I force myself to roll over and fumble my way from my tangled sheets. I gasp when my bare feet touch the cold floor, but take the four steps necessary to reach my closet. Dancing slightly, I throw on a green, long sleeved shirt and jeans, then immediately bundle up in my black parka. It's too cold here, even inside the house. I'm going to have to talk with Charlie about the thermostat setting.

I make it down the stairs to the breakfast table in relatively good shape, only tripping twice on the last couple of steps and stumbling on the rug at the foot of them.

Hi, Dad. I sign after reaching for the milk and cereal.

_Good morning, Bella. How did you sleep?_

Not very well. Back to school nerves kept me up.

Charlie just nods in understanding and stands, brushing crumbs off of his police uniform. He always was an early riser, but police work waits for no man. Or sunrise.

_I've got to get to work. Take it easy-the roads are wet._

Aren't they always?

That elicits another laugh from Charlie. He musses my hair and clomps out the door, bunching an old tattered hat on his head and waving a goodbye as he closes the door.

I wave goodbye back and slurp my cereal straight from the bowl. Then I wash my dishes by hand-we have no dishwasher here-and go upstairs to get dressed.

After I pull my boots on, ready to stomp back down stairs, I'm pleased to discover that the tread of the boots not only give me some much needed traction, but also keep the hems of my jeans-raggedy from my catching my heel in them and falling once too many times- above the ground. I might have found one good thing about living in Forks so far. **(A/N: Hmm. I think she'll find some other good things in Forks too! Especially one thing….)**

I check my watch. Forty minutes until my new life begins. Knowing that it will take me forever to just get out the door without falling and breaking something (most likely something that is attached to my body), I head downstairs, but stop at the front door, my hand of the knob.

Come on, Bella! I command myself. You have to do it. You have to! Slowly, taking a deep breath, I open the door and step out onto the porch.

J immediately regret it. It has to be forty degrees out, but its pouring rain. I wonder if it's too late to go back to bed. Groaning, I pull my hood up over my hair and dash to my truck. Once settled in still-cold-but-slightly-less-so truck cab. I instantly blast the heat and rev my truck's ancient engine. It growls to life, starling me and making me jump. I accidentally choke myself with my seatbelt. I back out of the driveway and onto the main road holding my breath, fearing that any second the rain will make my tires skid.

With some luck, I arrive at the school with a good ten minutes to spare. At least, that's what the small sign-mostly obscured by ivy- reads: Forks Senior High School. A wave of homesickness washes over me as I look around the open campus. Where were the solid stucco buildings? And the policemen at every corner, watching your every move?

I get out of the toasty cab and make a mad dash for the small brick building marked, OFFICE.

I close the office door behind me and revel in the warmth that envelopes me. Once warmed up, I look around and spot a woman behind the counter. Her nametag reads, Ms. Cope.

I smile shyly and hand her the note Charlie had written. She takes it silently and reads

_**Dear Ms. Cope,**_

_**My daughter, Isabella, is a new student. She is also deaf. Please can you assign her a translator?**_

_**Charles Swan, Chief of Police**_

She looks up at me maternally. "Hello, Isabella." She says slowly. Thank goodness Renee insisted that I learn to read lips.

I sign back Hi, which is, coincidently, the one that everyone uses: waving your hand back and forth. She waves back and says, "Hold on. I'll get your translator."

I smile, and she disappears into a back room. A minute later she is back, towing a tall girl by the hand. The girl smiles at me and signs, **Hi. I am Angela. You must be Isabella Swan.**

I prefer to be called Bella.

**Okay. Bella it is.**

Ms. Cope interrupts our silent conversation to hand me my schedule. "There you are, dear," She coos, and pats me on the head like some deranged puppy. She speaks to Angela for a second, and hands something to Angela.

**You have to get this signed by all of your teachers. Then bring it back to the office at the end of the day.**

I sign okay, and then add, I have English next. Mr. Mason's room. Can you show me where that is?

Angela nods and beckons me to follow her.

Exiting the office, I notice that the campus has become much more crowded then when I arrived. Angela leads me past several clumps of people, all of whom feel it necessary to ogle at me. I blush under their gaze and slip on the wet cement. My face turns to fire as they giggle and slip away, probably to gossip with their friends about the clumsy new girl.

**Here you are**. Angela deposits me at the door to the classroom. **Do you want me to meet you here after class gets out?**

I nod shyly. Angela nods too and heads down the hall, waving goodbye as she walks away. She seems nice: just shy, like me. I open the door to my classroom m and slip inside, shutting the door softly behind me.

As soon as I close the door, all activity ceases, and twenty pairs of eyes lock onto me, my worse nightmare. Hesitantly I walk to the front of the room to the teacher's desk and hand him the slip to be signed. His name plate says, Mr. Mason.

"Ah. Isabella Swan. Hello." He says slowly. He talks slower then he would to someone who was dumber then a baby, and the back of my neck gets hot, a sure sign that anger is following.

"I…prefer…Bella." I manage to choke out quietly. He gives me an odd look, but nods slowly. My face feels like it's going to burst into flames at any moment.

"Bella it is, then." Mr. Mason scribbles on my paper and hands it back to me. "Go sit at that empty seat." He points to a seat in the back, and goes back to his paperwork.

Of course it is in the back. I have to walk past every student in the room to get to my seat. I walk down the aisle slowly, hesitantly setting each foot down, concentrating on not tripping. I wonder if I can still make a break for it. When I reach my seat-miracle of miracles, I stay upright- I look down at the desk, ignoring the penetrating stares.

XXX

When the bell rings, ending the tedium of an English class comprised of materials that I had gone over in tenth grade-being in advanced placement in Phoenix had its disadvantages-I walk out the door and run straight into Angela.

**Hi. How was class?**

I roll my eyes and wave my hand, universal for, "do you really have to ask?"

As Angela is smiling and trying to hide her smile, a tall, almost emaciated looking boy shuffles up to me.

He hands me a note. _I'm Eric. I heard you were deaf, but I can't sign or anything, so…yeah. Are you Isabella Swan?_

I smile politely up at him and write back: I prefer to be called Bella. And Angela-I point to Angela-is my translator, so you don't have to pass notes.

Eric grins sheepishly and crumples up the piece of paper. "What is your next class?" He asks Angela, who translates it for me.

I rummage in my bag for a minute, and then produce my schedule. I tap my second period class with my finger at him.

"Government with Jefferson in building 6." He reads. He say something to Angela, who tells me with a small smile, **He wants to walk you to your next class. Do you want to?**

Sure. Why not?

Angela nods to Eric, who grins broadly. "Come on." He says slowly, and leads me away across campus-the rain-soaked campus. I miss Phoenix so much.

Along the way, I notice people staring at us. One girl, a short, curvy redhead, glares at me balefully over her glasses. Eric notices too, and blushes deeply, speeding up. I try to keep up, my feet sliding dangerously on the rain-spattered pavement. This is hazardous to my health, and to keeping my bones unbroken.

Finally my tall, pimply guide brings me to a door. "Maybe we'll have some classes together." He says, his hand on the door handle. He seems reluctant to move. I smile vaguely and push past him into the building.

XXX

Another class. More stares. More whispers I can't hear. I keep my eyes trained on my notebook the entire time, looking only up to copy notes from the overhead projector. I can feel pairs of eyes following every move of my pen, but I keep my eyes down. I'm so distracted that I keep messing up on the worksheet that is handed out later. At least this class, is relatively simple, and doesn't require much thought.

Government lets out, and I squirm through the bodies crowding the doorway. I've got three minutes to get my stuff out of my locker and get to Trig. I don't need a guide-my Government classroom is three rooms down from Trig class-but Angela meets me outside anyway.

**Hi. **

I grimly smile back.

**Not liking school so far, I take it.**

Not at all.

**Where is your next class?**

I point down the hall. Three doors that way.

Angela's face crinkles in silent laughter. **Oh. I didn't really need to come, did I?**

Not really. But that's okay. I don't mind having a familiar face around.

**How did you like walking with Eric?**

I wobble my hand side-to-side, clearing saying 'just okay'. This red headed girl seemed to be really mad about him walking me, though.

Angela's eyes roll. **That was Katie. She likes Eric. But he's kind of oblivious to it. She was probably jealous.**

Jealous? Of _me_? Short, awkward, clumsy me? Standards _must_ be different then in Phoenix.

**The bell is going to ring soon, and I have to get to my locker, which is across campus, so…goodbye. I'll meet you here after class so I can show you the cafeteria.**

Okay. See you later. Luckily, my locker is in this wing of the building, so I navigate down the hall, slipping slightly on the wet linoleum. I grab my Trig textbook and binder, and replace them with my government notebooks. The bell rings-the bells are so old-fashioned here. They look like the ones you seeing in boxing rings-and I can feel the vibrations in the walls. I slam my locker shut and hightail it back down the hall.

When Trig lets out an hour later, my face is still flushed from my embarrassment. Mr. Varner was the only teacher who introduced me as "Chief Swan's flighty ex-wife's deaf daughter." Several people laughed openly, but most tried to cover up their grins with their hands. They failed miserably, but they tried.

Angela meets up with me at the only door out of the building. She hands me a stick of cinnamon gum.

Hey. What was that for?

**Because I know Mr. Varner is cruel and inhumane, and I thought you would need cheering up.**

Thank you. Cinnamon is my favorite.

**Good. Now let's get to the cafeteria before all the seats are taken and we have to stand. **

Okay. I tag obediently behind Angela as she directs us to the cafeteria. As we approach, the classic cafeteria scent wafts over me-a charming blend of burned hair, Jell-O, and caramel pudding. I've always had a sensitive nose, and I can pick out individual scents of just about anything. Even people smell-not necessarily bad, but I can often tell what shampoos and perfumes they use. But the cafeteria smell is always the same.

Angela bumps the door open with her hip, and the smell becomes stronger, magnified by 10. I wrinkle my nose as I take my first step into the cafeteria. I wonder what adventures _this_ will bring.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I come to you guys on my knees for not updating sooner. I had a million page essay to write in my honors English class, then I hurt my foot and was on pain meds, so I was all dopey for a long time. That's all I've got. The rest of the time I haven't updated is just my procrastination genes starting to show. A lot. I am SOSOSOSOSOSOSO sorry. I give you all, um, cookies!**

**  
I know I'm making Angela more and more OOC, but I think that since Angela, not Jessica, is showing Bella the ropes, I felt like Angela needed to be more outgoing then the way Ms. Meyer writes Angela.**

**That's all. Plus my disclaimer. Since you guys know what it is and what it's going to say, I think you can just safely assume that I am not Stephenie Meyer, nor do I claim that I own Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, or the soon-to-be Breaking Dawn and The Host (Can you believe that an excerpt was posted on her page?! What a great valentine!). Same goes for future chappies as well.**

**This is becoming a long Author's Note, but I also have to warn my fabulous readers that I often take a long time to update. I'll probably take a wee bit longer now, Bella and Edward are going to be thrown together, and the mix of tension and attraction between Bella and Edward has to be JUST right. **

**Now that's really it. Honest.**

XXX

My first step into the cafeteria brings complete silence.

Everybody stops talking, laughing, chewing, gossiping and stares at me. All three hundred and fifty eight kids stop what their doing and turn towards me, like I'm going to make a speech. Some kids even push their chairs back and stand up to get a better view of me.

Angela notices them too. **Stupid rubber-neckers. Ignore them. ** She squeezes my hand encouragingly.

I blush, of course. I blush a bright red I'm sure people previously thought only existed on fire trucks. Nobody-especially a klutz like me-likes having a spotlight shone on them. Especially when you're likely to trip over air.

**Come on.** Angela signs. **I normally sit over here.** She starts striding briskly across the cafeteria. I still lag behind, not entirely sure where I'm being led. **(A/N: I know that Angela is normally shyer then Bella, but someone has to show Bella the ropes...and I don't want it to be Jessica. Angela is more understanding.)**

Angela's nonchalance seems to break the spell. Everybody goes back to eating, and instead just track my path. I try to ignore the eyes coming from all angles as I follow Angela across the smelly room. A couple of times she looks over her shoulder to check if I'm still following, and each time she smiles. My heart warms. It's nice to have a friend-and already I can count Angela as my friend-that cares enough to check if I'm still there.

Finally Angela stops at a table and sets her backpack down on the faux-wood. The people sitting there all look up and silently greet her. They talk so fast I can't understand half of what they're saying. I manage to read, "Hey, Angela!" "Hi, Ang!" and some other salutations.

**These are my friends.** She tells me privately. She turns to everyone and says, "Guys, this is Bella. Just go and say your names."

A tiny brunette stands up and pushes a curly lock of hair behind her ear. "Hi, Bella. I'm Jessica." She chirps.

**Jess is okay.** Angela tells me privately.** Just kind of shallow. But she's decent, I guess.**

I hide my smile behind my hands. Jessica flips her hair behind her shoulder and sits back down. She exudes confidence. It oozes from her very pores. Jessica knows that she looks great, and that if she puts on high heels she won't trip and fall on her face.

Two boys stand up, one golden haired, the other inky black. They stare each other down for a moment, until the blonde boy backs down. I instantly recognize the black haired boy as Eric, the overly-helpful boy from English. He grins broadly. "Hey, Bella!" He says excitedly. I nod back and wave slightly. Satisfied, he sits back down.

The blonde boy stands up and brushes crumbs off of his pants. He's cute, with just a touch of baby-fat left around his cheeks and chin. His hair is pulled into spikes with something that smells like rubber cement. He extends his hand. "Hi, Bella. I'm Mike."

I shake his hand and smile shyly.

Mike doesn't let my hand go. He just stands there with a ridiculous smile slapped on his face. I turn bright pink and tug my hand out of his grip.

**Mike is…exuberant about life, shall we say.** Angela keeps up her commentary. **Jessica totally likes him. Everybody knows it, but I think somebody's stolen him away from her.** She nudges me with her elbow and grins. I blush harder, pink turning to dark rose.

I might have to do something about Mike. I don't exactly have experience with dealing overly responsive boys. Boys in Phoenix tended to…ignore me. Their gaze drifted right past me, over to the tall, tanned, volleyball playing blondes.

Mike is still staring at me. I turn bright pink, but he still stares at me. If anything, he grins wider when my cheeks turn color.

**I think somebody likes you!** If Angela could sign in sing-song, she totally would be right now.

Shut up! I sign back, smirking. He does not!

Angela's eyebrow rises, but she keeps her hands still. However, she's clearly saying "If you say so."

"God, Mike. Be a little more obvious, why don't you!" A boy says as he stands up next to Mike and tugs his arm until Mike collapses in his chair. Then the boy extends his hand toward me. "I'm Tyler."

I take his hand shyly, and then hurriedly release it. Tyler sits down, where Mike immediately notices his grin and smacks him on the head. Tyler slaps Mike back. Mike retaliates with a punch to the gut. Then Tyler, then Mike, then Tyler. It finally escalates until both boys fall out of their chairs and roll around on the ground, punching and spitting and swearing.

A corn-silk headed blonde stands up and looks down her ski-jump nose at me. "I'm Lauren." She says simply, and sits back down again. Hostility rolls off her in waves.

I edge away from the rolling mass of boy on the floor and Lauren's glare. Angela follows me and sits down next to a cute Asian boy. She pats the chair next to her, and I gratefully sit down.

The boy leans past Angela and smiles shyly. "Hello." He says. "I'm Ben Cheney."

I smile at him. He's not overpowering. He seems shy like me. But most importantly, he seems kind. Mom would say that he's a 'good boy'.

I look at Angela, and am shocked to see her soft eyes looking seriously pissed. Oops. Did I just inadvertently steal another guy? I have to admit, this is a first. I've never had a surplus of guy's attention before.

I lean away from Ben and poke Angela in the ribs. Do you like Ben?

**Yes. **

Sorry. I didn't mean to…divert his attention.

Angela's eyes soften. **That's okay. I know it wasn't intentional. You can't help the fact that you're pretty.**

What did she just say?! I nearly fall out of my chair with shock. Did Angela-did she just…did she just say I'm pretty?

Standards _have _to be different here. They just have to be. I was considered…plain back home. And I was told more then once that I was on the uglier side of plain.

Thanks. But in Phoenix…I was considered almost ugly.

**Really?**

I nod my head, once.

**Forks has different standards of beauty, I guess. I think that to boys, it's the fact that you're new more then anything. Not that you're ugly!** She adds hastily, her fingers flying, in case I took that last comment the wrong way. **It's just the…novelty of a new girl attracts the boys.** She looks over her shoulder at Ben, who's completely engrossed in talking across the table to Eric. I manage to decipher small phrases, and from what I can surmise, the boys are talking about comic books.

That makes sense. I sign back. Now. Where can a girl get some decent food?

**Not here. But they do serve edible cardboard. If you put enough salt on it's not horrible. **

I press my hands to my mouth, stifling the throaty laughter threatening to burst out. You should be a comedian.

Angela shakes her head and laughs silently. **Nah. I couldn't get up on stage. Too many people watching your every move. Come on, let's go get some cardboard. I think today they're calling it "meatloaf".**

I have my doubts already.

Angela smiles and starts walking to the food counter. I hurry along beside her hastily. It may be cardboard, but I _am_ hungry.

Once we reach the counter, I grab a tray, mimicking Angela. I walk slowly down the metal row, sliding my tray on the railing. Angela taps out a random beat with her fingers on the plastic orange tray.

Finally the line moves some more, allowing the lunch lady-her nametag read simply, Jo-to slop a slice of steaming cardboard on my tray. I look down at my lunch and poke it with a fork.

I tap Angela on the shoulder. Are you sure this is edible?

**No.**

Me neither.

**That's pretty much the norm around here. And since the main course is almost always inedible, you will want to get some side foods, to tide you over until you get home.** As Angela speaks, she grabs a juice and a pear and places then gently on her tray. I add a carton of chocolate milk, a roll and an apple on my tray, following Angela's instructions. She pays a surly man in a hairnet two bucks and heads back to the table. I cough up two crinkled dollar bills and hand them to him shyly, then follow Angela.

I sit down at the crowded table and stick a fork into the meatloaf. It sticks straight up in the gray meat. I shove it away and bite into the apple instead. At least it's a good tasting apple.

As I munch, relatively content at the moment, I scan the cafeteria.

That's when I first see them.

**(A/N: I was going to end there, and save the info on the Cullen's for next chapter, but I asked my friend for advice, and she vehemently advised me not to. Actually, she forbade me to, and threatened me with torture.)**

There are four of them, two boys and two girls, sitting in the far southern corner, away from the long row of windows on the north side of the room. Their skin is whiter then the petals of a daisy, contrasting oddly with their matching dark eyes. Judging by their skin tone I expect all of them to be blonde, or maybe redheads, but only two are blondes; one boy and one girl. The other boy has dark, dark brown hair, and the small, petite girl sitting across from him has hair blacker then the blackest night.

I can't look away. They are foreign looking, yet somehow completely American. Their beauty is inhuman, completely alien. They stand out from the crowd of kids, though everybody here is pale.

They are wholly, mind-bogglingly beautiful. Even the boys.

I tap Angela's arm, and she reluctantly tears her eyes away from Ben. **What's up?**

I point to the secluded group. Who are they?

Angela follows my gaze. **Oh. Those are the Cullens and Hales. They moved here from Alaska a couple of years ago.**

They are-I break off, searching for the right word to describe them-really good-looking!

**That's an understatement. They're adopted too, so none of them are technically related. The really big one is Emmett Cullen, and the blonde one is Jasper Hale. The girls are Alice Cullen, the small one, and Rosalie Hale is Jasper's twin sister. **Angela's fingers hesitate for a moment before continuing. **And they are **_**together**_**: Emmett and Rosalie, and Alice and Jasper.**

I look over at the Cullens and Hales, examining them more closely this time. The dark haired boy, Emmett, is so muscular. He looks like if he moves his shirt will tear across the chest and back. He's almost…overdeveloped. But he's so handsome, his face comprised of angles and smooth planes. His eyelashes are astounding: I can see them despite the thirty foot space of tables and shouting kids between us. He's movie-star handsome, yet he doesn't seem to realize it.

Jasper, the blonde boy, sitting across from him, is playing with a bottle cap and spinning it like a top. His hair gleams gold in the dull sunlight breaking through the clouds. He's sitting so that I can see his profile, but just that is beautiful. He's not as muscular as his brother, but you can still see the muscles straining just so underneath his button down shirt. He's handsomer then his brother, which is saying something.

The girls are perfect opposites: the pixie-esque girl, Alice, is absolutely miniscule; maybe five feet, when she's on her tip-toes. She's wafer-thin, but you can totally tell that she can eat as much as she wants without gaining an ounce. But the other girl, Rosalie the wavy-haired blonde, is tall and curvy. She sports a figure that would make any model suppurate with envy. Her waves of hair end just above the small of her back. As I stare, she tilts her head up and cranes her neck, looking over Emmett's shoulder.

I look in the direction of her gaze, and my mouth drops open.

Walking toward their table is the most beautiful boy I've _ever seen._ He makes his brothers and sisters seem positively plain. His eyes are set into his pale skin just above mile-high cheekbones, and the strong edge of his jaw blows me away. I watch, transfixed, as he brushes some auburn hair out of his eyes when he walks past a gorgeous senior girl with curly blonde hair and wide emerald eyes. She gets this ridiculous look on her face, like she's about to melt into a metaphorical puddle. I have a sinking feeling that it's the same look plastered on my face.

My jaw drops toward my shoes as he brushes past the girl without a second glance and sits down at his table with his siblings. I tug impatiently on Angela's sleeve, tearing her away from Ben once more. Who is that?

Angela looks slightly frustrated. **That's Edward Cullen. **

I notice that with him there are five people at the table. He looks like the odd man out. Is he with anybody, then?

**Nobody. He's stunning, but don't waste your time-he doesn't date. A couple of months ago he turned Jessica down. For the fifth time. I think it was the first time a boy had ever said 'no' to her. I found it mildly amusing, actually.**

Oh.

I keep watching. Edward starts talking, but none of his siblings seem to be paying attention. They're all staring off into different directions or, in Alice and Jasper's case, staring into each other's eyes, but Edward seems unperturbed.

My eyes are still focused entirely on their table when Edward suddenly turns his head away from his family and stares at me intensely.

His coal black eyes capture mine and reel me in to their immeasurable depths, the hard color contrasting with his pale skin. His eyes are an oddity in and of themselves. Black eyes are normally flat and empty in their darkness, maybe even lifeless, but his are burning with life. But there's something slightly off about them, but I can't put my finger on it.

I realize that Edward has caught me staring. I flush, blood staining my cheeks, and look away. I eat some of my cardboard food until I think it's safe to look again a couple minutes later.

Edward is sill staring at me.

This time I am determined to force _him_ to look away, but, as I watch him, he lifts his hands-I instantly notice his long fingers, a musician's finger, narrow and tapering-and, to my disbelief, starts to sign something.

_**Welcome to Forks.**_

My eyebrows scrunch together. Did he just sign something? Does he know ASL?

I hesitate before answering slowly, Thanks.

His full lips twist up into a faint, mysterious smile, then he turns back to his siblings and resumes his conversation. I watch curiously as he goes back to ignoring the entire student population except his siblings.

Suddenly, Angela knocks gently on my upper arm. **It's time for class. What do you have next?**

I dig through my bag, finally producing my schedule, slightly crumpled and looking much worse then when I put it in my binder this morning. I have Biology One with Mr. Banner. Where is that?

**I have it too, so I can show you. But in case I'm not here, it's across the hall, up the stairs and six doors down. **She looks at my confused face, and adds, **Don't worry. You'll get the rhythm of your classes soon enough.**

I nod, content and more then slightly confused. I stand up Angela does and wait as she says her goodbyes. Then I follow her out of the emptying room.

As I walk side-by-side with Angela down the crowded hall, I can't stop my mind from wandering back to the mysterious Edward Cullen. My mind focuses on his eyes; his haunting, black eyes.

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul. Edward's eyes were almost wary, like he's lost all trust with the world. Yet there was something burning deep inside, like a candle flickering in a faraway window.

As I trudge up the metal stairs behind Angela, I finally figure out what was wrong with Edward's eyes back in the cafeteria.

They were frustrated.

Not completely irritated beyond belief, but they were definitely frustrated. Like he was trying to decipher the most impossible code on earth, and he thought he had the answer, but he was wrong. But, I did notice that he only looked like that when he was staring at me. Not at his brothers or sisters, or when he was walking across the cafeteria, but only at me.

With this mystery still whirling around in my brain, I step through the door Angela thoughtfully holds open for me.

Why was Edward so frustrated?

Why was did only look like that when he looked at me?

Why?

I step into Mr. Banner's classroom, completely absorbed in a dark cloak of a chorus of questions and yet no answers to solve them.

**Whew! That took a LONG time to write! –wipes sweat from forehead- **

**That is my longest chapter ever! 3, 175 words, including the author's notes. Please review, I live on reviews! And lately I've been fasting. Ignore me, I jest. I don't mind if you don't review, because I write to express myself, and that is completely unrelated to reviews.**

**But I do like them. Please review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay! Here I am again. Sorry I took forever (AGAIN) to update, but my computer crashed and I had to save all my stories and basically it was a giant mess of cables and things I don't know the names of until it was fixed. My sincerest apologies.**

**Remember: Edward's signing is bold and **_**italicized.**_

**And on a completely random note-have you ever noticed that there are three names in the Cullen family? Edward, Emmett and Esme? That's all. Just had to point it out.**

**I'm not entirely sure where I'm headed with this story anymore, or how far into Twilight I'll take it. Private message me and tell me how far you want it. But I warn you-I won't go to the end of the book….anyway, here's the chapter!**

XXX

I walk into Biology with Angela, who immediately goes to Mr. Banner and explains about me. He eyes me appraisingly from behind his desk, and I turned into the first walking, talking neon sign. But at least I don't have to explain myself. Having Angela in my class makes it ten times better.

After thanking Mr. Banner, Angela shuffles over to me, her expression obstinate. **Bad news. Banner won't let us sit together.**

What? That is...so wrong! What if I can't understand something?

**Hopefully that won't be an issue. Mr. Banner uses the overhead projector a lot. Most teachers do. It's easier then writing them on the whiteboard, I guess. It gives them time to sleep or whatever they do.**

Okay. Who am I sitting with?

**Nobody, for now. Edward Cullen should be here, but-**

Angela's signing is cut off by Mr. Banner, who comes up behind her and instructs her to get back to her seat before she regrets it. Reluctantly she does so, looking over her shoulder at me. She mouths, _sorry_, and sits down at a black-topped lab table, almost identical to the ones in Phoenix. But with much less grafitti.

Mr. Banner opens his mouth to begin, but the door opens and shuts loudly. In the doorway stands Edward, his books tucked under his arm. I stare, transfixed, as Edward hands Mr. Banner a late slip, talks swiftly and silently under his breath, then heads for the only empty seat in the classroom-the one beside me.

Of course.

Edward Cullen sits as far away from me as the desk will allow. He even angles his chair toward the wall, away from my direction. I can't help but feel a tiny bit insulted. What doesn't he like about me? It's not like I was rude to him or anything. I haven't even talked to him. Except for that split-second exchange in the cafeteria, but that doesn't constitute as really 'talking'. But that split second was courteous, even friendly; he welcomed me to his town.

I have to talk to him.

I wait until Mr. Banner is preoccupied with adjusting microscope slides, then take my pencil and poke Edward Cullen in the upper arm with it. When he doesn't respond I poke him again in the bicep, marveling at the musculature straining from under his skin.

Edward turns his head, and I'm instantly pinned beneath a gaze so furious that I almost lose my resolve. Those twin whirlpools of black are so intensely filled fury that I shrink back in my seat.

_**What?**_

He signed again!

Why are you so rude and mean all of a sudden? You were… nice in the lunch room.

Edward does not answer. He just stares at me.

Answer me.

_**No.**_

That was an answer. Why the sudden mood change? Are you bi-polar?

_**I was being polite. That doesn't mean I like you or that I want to be friends.**_

Who said anything about being friends? I just want to know why the sudden mood change.

Silence.

Okay, fine. Be that way.

I turn away from him and stare in the teacher's direction. I can't get my eyes to focus; all my thoughts are concentrated on studiously ignoring my seatmate. Today's lesson is on cellular anatomy. Great. Something I've already studied. But I take notes anyway, thanking my lucky stars that Mr. Banner isn't one of those teachers who likes to speak and have students take notes that way. Angela was right: he just slaps a film on the overhead projector and we copy off of that.

Never once do I look at Edward.

Okay, that's a lie. I look over once and find my eyes captured in a sea of midnight. Edward is staring at me intensely, and as I watch him watch me his black eyes grow even blacker, and his hand lying on the desk top convulses into a tight fist. His pencil snaps in two. I blush and turn away again, feeling almost weak. Why has it been me both times to look away? I swing my hair over my shoulder, a mahogany curtain, and make a deal with myself:

If I can look away and stay that way, then today after school I'll kill a couple of hours with Jane Austen.

When the bell finally rings, after a good couple of millennia have passed, Edward and I are sitting at the far ends of the table, our chairs angled away from each other.

But I broke my bargain to myself: I looked over at Edward again. His fist hadn't relaxed a millimeter. Was that the reason class seemed to drag on so long? Or was it that I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head?

So much for getting to re-read _Pride and Prejudice_.

I shove my books into my bag and sit patiently for Angela. I zone out, thinking about what to cook tonight. I have known for years that Charlie was basically unable to cook anything other then eggs and bacon. Luckily, Renee was about as incapable in the kitchen, so at least I had some experience.

Angela taps me on the shoulder, interrupting my introspective reflection. **Come on. What is your next class?**

Once again I have to dig around in my bag. After several hours of being taken out, getting put back in, grabbed, snatched and scribbled on, it is now more then slightly crumpled. I have to squint to read the last name on my schedule and make a face. Gym.

Angela's face mirrors mine. **Sorry. Gym here is tough. And we have four years of it.**

No way. We only have two years on it in Phoenix.

Angela's face turns to comforting. **Sorry. It's not like I can spring you or anything. Will you be able to get to the gym by yourself? My class is in the opposite direction. The gym is the big white building across the quad. I don't think you'll have trouble but if you do, Mike is in your gym period. He can show you.  
**  
Angela waves Mike over from one of the tables across the aisle. She talks to him for a second, causing his eyebrows to rise into his hairline. I blush, and he scans me with appraising eyes. Maybe he thinks that I have, unbeknownst to myself, assumed the role of Damsel in Distress, he can be my knight in shining...Nikes.

**See you tomorrow, Bella.** Angela waves a farewell, which I mirror. God, why can't Angela be in my Gym period too?

As soon as I turn away from Angela, Mike _grabs my hand_ and starts walking me to the gym. Like he was my escort. Or…my boyfriend.

Oh no. OH no. No, no, no, no, no. That is stepping WAY over the line. I hardly know this guy! But I do know that something isn't quite right about him…he seems like he's oblivious to everyone except himself. He makes me feel all uncomfortable.

I turn white, then rose, and squirm out of his grip. Mike seems oblivious to my discomfort and starts prattling on about who-knows-what. Clearly he doesn't understand the definition of "deaf". Nor the concept of personal space. He slings an arm around my shoulders, which I duck under. Never once does he stop talking, though I did catch a few phrases. Apparently he moved here from California when he was ten. I shudder. He's trying to find something in common with me…so that he could think of us as a pair? Ooh, Mike is seriously creepy! He makes me feel like ants are crawling on me.

I breath a sigh of relief when I finally spot the gym. I pick up my pace slightly, being careful not to fall on the wet cement. Maybe Mike will get the hint that he creeps me out and leave me alone.

I feel a poke on my shoulder. I turn towards Mike reluctantly. I look at him curiously and he hands me a slip of paper.

_So what happened between you and Cullen? Did you stab him with a pencil or something_

I take the paper and scribble back: Edward Cullen? I did, actually. But only to get his attention. Does he always act that rudely?

Mike shakes his head. No. _Don't worry about it though. He's kind of weird. All the Cullens are; they just don't fit in. If it makes you feel better I wouldn't have been so rude to you._

1) It doesn't make me feel better _at all_, and 2) Thank god he doesn't sit next to me.

I smile my thanks, edging away and walk towards the Gym teacher standing in the middle of the room. She's wearing a nametag (who still does that?) which reads COACH CLAPP in big black letters. I hand her my note, painfully conscious of every single pair of eyes trained on me. She reads it and hands it back to me.

Coach Clapp finds me a gym uniform approximately 57 times too big and demands that I change into the puke colored sweats and T-shirt and participate. She points me in the direction of the changing rooms. I stumble off and change, thankful that there is a spare locker to put my bag and clothes in.

I manage to get to Coach Clapp's class only four minutes late, only to discover that Forks High is my seventh circle of hell.

I was forced to endure a full hour of volley ball.


	5. Chapter 5

I flop on my bed, hands over my eyes, and let out a groan that more likely then not sounds like a foghorn

**Yay I'm back! And a little earlier then planned! Three cheers! Okay. I've decided to alter this story from my pre-conceived idea to follow Twilight's plotline exactly. Some bits of Twilight are going to blended together in the following chapters. But nothing unrecognizable. **

**I don't own a car (YET.) or any of the Twilight characters. Stephanie Meyer owns both. As far as I know, anyway.**

I flop on my bed, hands over my eyes. School was torture. And I thought that school in Phoenix was bad….Let it be known that I should not be allowed to get within forty feet of a volleyball. In my hands, a simple ball can accidentally become a lethal projectile. I had taken down seven kids in one hour. That is, unfortunately, my new record. Several hours after the actual event, my cheeks are still burning.

I wonder if Guinness Book of World Records would take that as a record.

And just when I thought that my day couldn't get any worse: after Gym, that whole spectacle with Mike and Tyler in the parking lot…good god! I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Everybody had seen it. Including the person I wanted to see it least: Edward. He seems highly amused by my embarrassment.

I shove my face into my pillow and let loose a wild, muffled scream.

I was born deaf. I didn't go deaf before I could talk, like Helen Keller. I came into this world silent, and this is how I will leave. I was born into a silent world. I've never known anything different. Sound and speech was never ripped away from, snatched out of my grasp.

People have asked me, "Is it weird, not being able to hear?" And I have never known how to respond to that. _This is my normal._ I've grown up in silence. Since I can remember, I've been deaf. It hasn't fluctuated from sound to lack thereof. I have never once heard my mom call me her little girl, or heard that she loves me. I haven't heard the satisfying _thwack_ of the pool stick hitting the cue ball, though I've played dozens of times. This is how I am. How would you respond if I asked you what it's like to taste? Or to feel?

And yet….

Sometimes, I wish I could hear. Hear everything in the world. Say everything that's on my mind. I wonder what a baby's coo of joy sound like. I wish I knew what rain hitting the roof sounds like. I wish I knew what an 'I love you' sounds like. I know what it _looks_ like. But it's not the same, and I know it. I am deprived of one of nature's most common gifts. I am never to know what most people take for granted: Sound.

But this is who I am. And, like it or not, I've learned to accept myself.

I roll over and lean over the edge of my bed, scrabbling my fingernails on the hardwood floor. The blood rushes to my head, but I ignore it and finally make contact with a worn cardboard box. I pull it out and rest it on my lap. I pull off the lid eagerly and gaze lovingly upon my books. I stroke the spines, tracing the worn, gilt letters with my fingers: S-E-N-S-E A-N-D S-E-N-S-I-B-I-L-T-Y. A personal favorite.

But I breathe a sigh of relief as I reach into the box and pull out the best book ever printed: _Wuthering Heights_. Emily Brontë was a genius, truly. Mom got me this copy when I was thirteen, and almost five years later it's very well traveled, to say the least. It doesn't really have a back cover anymore, or a front. It's more duct tape then binding now, but it's got a lot of memories stored away in its pages. Charlie and Renee both have offered to buy new copies, but I can't tear myself away from this one. It's my baby.

I open it up to page one, and start reading Lockwood's journal entry. Soon I am entranced by the story for the umpteenth time. It never gets old. But vague, unformed thoughts dance around in my head, keeping me from getting entirely engrossed with Heathcliff and Cathy.

_Charlie should be home soon…_

_I really should be heating up dinner for Charlie…_

_I don't want to go to school tomorrow…_

_I'm ignoring homework…_

I re-cross my legs and punch my pillows, trying to banish all my thoughts.

_Edward Cullen._

Concentrate on Heathcliff, Bella. Concentrate. Concentrate on Wuthering Heights. On Catherine. Yorkshire.

_Edward Cullen..._

I give up!

I get up off of my bed, far too restless to sit still and read. Why can't I think of anything but Edward?! For crying out loud (not literally, in my case, but you get it.) I've known the boy one day! And he was very rude! Why should I be thinking about him?

Because he's mystifying…and dark. And brilliant. And extremely handsome. And alien and foreign and shrouded with a cloak of mystique that I want to wrap myself. I want to understand him. I want to know why he was so suddenly different. I want to get to know him.

I need to know.

I shake my head suddenly. _No more of that, Bella! Now, go do something productive._ I follow my own instructions obediently and wander out to the kitchen. I check the clock hanging at the foot of stairs and with a shock realize that it's only four thirty-I have the house to myself for the next couple of hours. I don't have to reheat some dinner for Charlie and myself for at least and hour.

What to do, what to do….

Inspiration strikes in the form of the book in my hand. I'll kill an hour with non-school related reading. A blanket, myself, and _Wuthering Heights_ combined sounds like a perfect afternoon. I peek out of a window and grin at the weak rays of sunlight struggling to break through the thick cloud cover. Perfect.

I tramp out to the backyard, grabbing an old, faded quilt from the hall closet on my way out. After a couple of minutes of hunting, I find a spot that is merely damp, not wet and spread the quilt over it. I collapse ungracefully on the quilt, miraculously managing not to hurt parts of me that weren't already so.

I open up to my bookmarked page and start reading, aware of the rays of light growing stronger every minute. I cross my legs and fan my hair out, letting each strand soak up the sunshine. As I get further and further into my book I start to feel like I'm in Phoenix…in the middle of winter, mind you, but Phoenix nevertheless.

XXX

I finish chapter five and look up from my book, shivering slightly. The rays of sunshine have come and gone. I wonder absentmindedly at the speed at which time flies. It's twilight. My favorite time of day. Where the sun is just starting to set over the trees-or, when I still lived in Arizona, the craggy, carved out desert hills-and the sky is brightly lit up, awash with the colors of the rainbow, along with pinks and corals and navy blues. Maybe a brush of darkness across the very bottom, around the horizon, throwing the trees and buildings into sharp silhouetted relief.

I roll over and push myself up into a sitting position. I watch the forest behind Charlie's house turn from dark jade to murky emerald, then finally shadowy olive. I check my watch, and to my surprise it's only five fifteen. The sun goes down so early in winter. Even in Phoenix the sun disappeared beneath the dry earth, though it never got as cool as it does here. I wrap myself up in the quilt and shiver again.

Suddenly my eyes catch a slash of white amongst the dark trees. I sit up straighter. _What _was _that?_ I think frantically. I know ghosts don't exist, but….

Instinctively I pull the quilt closer as the white spot grows larger and refines. I realize that the white thing is a _face_…and it's coming toward me. Who _is_ that? _What_ is that? I shake my head slightly and squint, trying to discern some, or any, really, tell-tale features.

The figure grows steadily closer, and I start to see limbs and clothing. Then the person steps out of the forest and I gasp.

_Edward Cullen!_

Wait. Edward? _EDWARD CULLEN?!_

What is he _doing_ here? In my backyard? Walking toward me?

I lean back and beckon him closer. I want to get to the bottom of this. Right. Now.

Edward's lips twist into the same half-smile that he bestowed on me in the cafeteria. The sexy, perfectly crooked smile that already makes my heart skip a beat. He steps lightly through the long grass until he's ten feet from me, then takes his hands out of his pocket and starts to sign.

_**Hello. **_

I narrow my eyes. What are you doing here?

Edward's fingers falter for a second. _**I-I wanted to see you.**_ He turns his eyes onto mine, and I can instantly feel my breathing get shallow.

No! No way am I falling for that again. Why? You didn't want to talk to me in Bio. So why now?

He shakes his head and ignores my question. _**Why are you out here? It's getting dark…and cold.**_ He signs smugly. He knows he's right, and I roll my eyes at his obvious ego problem.

Edward walks over to me and extends a hand. I grab it and almost flinch away-his hand is that cold. It must be cooler out then I thought. He hauls me up effortlessly without the slightest bit of strain. As soon as I have my balance he lets my hand go, much to my relief, and at the same time, annoyance.

I fold my blanket up, pick up _Wuthering Heights_ and without a backward glance stride away to the house. Edward keeps pace with me easily and takes the blanket from my hands.

Thanks, I sign slowly. He nods briefly in reply and opens the door for me. This time I don't thank him at all, just brush past him haughtily and walk into the kitchen. Now I really need to get dinner started for Charlie.

Yesterday Charlie had made hamburgers for himself and I, after fretting that Renée had turned me vegetarian. Which is certainly not the case. I like meat. He's a steak-and-potatoes sort of guy, Charlie is, and I've got the same basic tastes. But I want to make something one day that will make him squirm. Renée wasn't the best cook, and paired with her wild imagination she created some…_interesting_ foods. Sometimes they weren't always edible. It will be fun to see Charlie start to trust me in kitchen and try my cooking; hesitantly, but with bravery only benefiting a police chief.

A tap on my shoulder reminds me that, however unannounced, I've got a visitor. Edward spins me around to face him. _**Aren't you going to speak to me?**_

Why should I?

_**Because I want to talk.**_

I blush slightly. This handsome boy wants to talk to me? Okay. What about?

Edward sits at the table, in Charlie's spot and casually leans back on two legs. _**You.**_

Me?

_**Yes…What are you doing this weekend? You know, the weekend of the dance….**_

Oh…oh my….Not again. After school Mike had caught up with me in the parking lot (hunted down was more accurate, really) and had shown me a poster for the school dance. Girls asked the boys, but that didn't stop Mike from asking me. But then Tyler Crowley, a boy in my Government class who had introduced himself earlier, had 'rescued' me in what I'm sure he thought was a chivalrous manner by pushing Mike away and asking me himself. But Angela butted in, bless her, and told the perfect lie about my engagements this weekend.

Apparently I am going to Seattle this weekend, for books and maybe some clothes.

And then, the cherry on top: Edward was standing next to my truck, watching the drama go down and laughing his head off.

He has some nerve to come here and act like he didn't.

I wheel around. Are you _trying_ to be funny?!

Why am I even putting up with this? I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and pull out some hamburger to re-heat. I am so tempted to ignore him. But I turn at look at Edward and see him make a face at the meat in my hands.

_**No. I heard you were going to Seattle and I wanted to know if you needed a ride. I don't think your truck can make it on one tank of gas.**_

That is none of your business, thank you. 

_**The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business.**_

I narrow my eyes at him and see him make a face at the hamburgers in my hands. I set the burgers on the counter. You don't like meat?

_**No. I'm a…vegetarian.**_

Okay. Well, why are you here?

_**I told you. I want to make up for being so rude in class today. And for laughing at your plight.**_

Alright. Apology accepted.

Edward smiles that perfect smile, one side arching up higher then the other. I blush harder and turn around again, trying to concentrate on heating up my dinner.

_**I'm glad you're forgiven my rude behavior. I don't want you to be mad at me.**_

I furrow my brow. I mean, really. What gives? _Is_ he bi-polar?

_**I was very rude to you Bella. I wish to make it up to you. Do you want to go somewhere with me on Saturday?**_

Depends. Where would we be going?

_**Seattle.**_

Be serious, please. For my sake.

_**I am being serious, but fine. For your sake.**_

Thanks. I appreciate it. When?

_**Saturday? I could pick you up.**_

Okay. But only because I need a ride.

Edward abruptly stands up but finishes our conversation with a mischievous glint in his eyes. _**Of course. Only because you need a ride…and the fact that you want to be with me.**_

I blush at his obvious innuendos, but a wave of pleasure washes over me. My cheeks red, I turn around and realize that my food is now room temperature. I completely forgot about it. I wave goodbye to Edward, but realize that he's already out the door. I stand there, completely baffled at his instant disappearance. I had my back turned for maybe three seconds.

A small movement catches my eye and I stare out the window. There stands a grinning Edward, his hand pressed against the glass, holding a small scrap of paper against a pane. In a beautiful hand he's written:

_Shall I pick you up at eight o clock?_

I nod shyly, blush harder and turn back to the kitchen. Dinner is probably-if not definitely-going to be late.

Do I have a date…with Edward Cullen?


	6. Chapter 5 EPOV

EPOV

EPOV

I walk through the door after school and immediately register the oddity I've been trying to place-the house is silent. Not a single thought is to be heard.

I stand on the doorstep, my hand on the knob, waiting for the thought I know will come any second. One finally echoes into my head: just the one I didn't want to register in my mind. It's a futile thing, to try to ignore the thought suddenly propelled at me again and again.

_Edward Cullen! YOU GET IN HERE! Now!_

I stuff my hands in my pockets and stroll into the living room and face my golden sister as the epitome of casual. "You rang, Rose?"

Rosalie stands up and looks at me passively, arms crossed. Ah, the calm before the tempest. So misleading. So calm. So deadly. She walks up to me and stabs a finger in my chest. "Where. Were. You?"

"Where was I when?" I bat her hand away. I am _not_ in the mood to deal with her. I only have a couple of hours to figure out how I can see Bella tonight...

Rose anchors her hands on her hips and growls, "Where was your Volvo after school? Emmett, Jasper, Alice and I had to walk home!"

I roll my eyes and mimic her voice flawlessly. "Oh, Edward, where were _you_ after school, we were so worried! We were worried about _you_! We don't mind having to walk home once in a while because we're _vampires_ and we _never get fatigued_. And we don't care about your Volvo picking us up after school, just so long as you're here and okay."

Ebony eyes narrow at me across the room. "Cut the sarcasm, Edward. You know damn well it's not the walking that bothers us! It's the third time you've ditched us to watch the human! You've watched her in her classroom, in her Gym class and then you followed her home, abandoning us!"

Jasper ambles into the room and leans against the wall, staring at me intently. "And you know what they say about three strikes, Edward..."

"Shut _up_, Jasper. You're not helping." Rosalie snaps. Jasper looks at her, and the 'twins' have an intense, five second staring contest. Rosalie looks away first and turns her eyes back onto me. Jasper smiles smugly and hits Rosalie with a wave of frustration.

"Jasper! Stop it!" She shouts, grabbing her hair and pulling at it. Several blond strands fall to the floor and are swallowed up by the plush carpeting. Those are five strands of hair that Rose will never have again.

"Ever since that _human_ showed up you've changed!" Rosalie sneers. "You're all distant and ignore everybody! When are you going to give her up?"

"I'm not going to," I mutter, all pretenses of calm gone.

Emmett pokes his head around the door. God, does everybody want to witness my verbal abuse? "Oh, hey Edward. Glad to see you're finally home. So, you're not going to give the human up?"

"She has a name!" I growl. Emmett shrinks back under my menacing stare but comes into the living room and joins Jasper on the couch. Great. That's exactly what I need: an audience.

"Does anybody else want to come in here and berate me for my choice?!" I shout out to the house. "I know you're listening and shielding your thoughts, you might as well join in verbally!"

Alice instantly pops into the living room like a cork from a bottle, chipper as always-_Hey, Edward! Sorry, we all tried to convince Rose to not do this, but even Jazz couldn't stop her-_soon followed by Esme and Carlisle. Esme comes over to me and wraps me in her arms. My fury melts slightly, and I lean into her, my cheek resting atop her head.

"Edward?" Esme whispers in my ear. "Do you love this girl?" _I hope he does, he's been without a mate for so long..._

I nod miserably. "I think I do."

Rosalie snorts with contempt and starts to say something, no doubt scathingly, but Emmett clamps a hand over her mouth. Surprisingly, she submits to it without much of a fight. _Good to see you happy, little brother. Love at first sight, how perfect. Be careful,_ he thinks.

"You think you do?" Esme asks softly.

I grimace. "Is this what it feels like, love? This horrible longing sensation? _This_ is what everybody makes a big deal over?"

"Yeah," Emmett says, looking at Rosalie. "Isn't it great?"

"If you think you do, then I think you should see her." Esme continues. I raise my head and look down at her in surprise.

"I-I don't know how." I whisper. "I want to get to know her, but I'm afraid I'll kill her if I get too close. I'm not good for her."

"If you love her-" Carlisle breaks off to stare stonily at Rosalie, who had made a gagging sound. "Rosalie, if you don't want to help your brother, then you can vacate the room."

Rosalie crosses her arms and without looking back flounces out of the room, Emmett trailing behind with an apologetic look upon his face. _Sorry Edward…but its Rosalie..._

I lift my chin and hug Esme tighter. "Thanks, mom."

"You're welcome, Edward. You've been alone far too long: it's good to see you finally happy."

Esme finally relinquishes her grip on me and kisses my forehead. "I wish you the best."

Carlisle grabs my shoulder and pushes slightly: I get the hint and sit down. "Edward, how are you going to go about this?"

I sigh and look down at my hands. "I'm going to court her, as any suitor would do for a lady. I will in a most respectable fashion, and-Carlisle, I swear I won't do anything that will arouse suspicion."

A thought echoes from the other room. _I'll bet you're going to arouse something _else_, huh, Edward?_

"Shut _up_, Emmett!" I shout. Esme pats my hand comfortingly and shook her head disparagingly at the muffled laughter coming from the other room.

"Tell me about this girl, Edward." Carlisle says.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, picturing Bella in all her awkward perfection. "She's beautiful. She's got long brown hair, and these huge, incredibly deep eyes. She blushes a lot, especially around me, and that makes it all the more harder for me to be around her. And she's exceptionally clumsy, which if you saw her you would find unbelievably endearing. But it's not just beauty-she's so smart and insightful. And she's deaf, but she doesn't let it stop her from living life." I pause, and then rush on. "And…I can't read her mind, either."

Carlisle rocks back. "Really? How peculiar!"

"I know, and it's infuriating. But Carlisle-she's absolutely astounding."

"She sounds like a lovely girl." Esme comments quietly. I nod in affirmation. "She is."

"Are you going to see her tonight, Edward?" Carlisle asks.

"I'm going to try and talk to her. I know ASL as well as she does, which will help a great deal. But I have to get going. I didn't realize that it was so late. It's a good think the sun is going down: I'm not ready to tell her…what I am. Not yet."

"I think that's best for now. But if you're not going to leave her, then eventually you will have to tell her." Carlisle says.

"I know. Just not now."

Alice pipes up from her spot under Jasper's arm. "She's really nice, Edward. But you have to go in three minutes. Other wise she won't see you."

I nod once, and without another word sprint through the doorway, eager to see Bella.

As I put distance between myself and the house I distantly hear Jasper mumble, "Man, he's in deep."

XXX

I pace for a minute in the forest, trying to collect my thoughts. I can smell Bella's delicious scent, and it's making thinking clearly very difficult.

Freesia. Lavender. Strawberry. Fresh grass. Bella.

I clench my hands, then relax them. I run my fingers through my hair, mussing it. I can do this. I can. It's just a girl. A human. A mortal. Not a vampire. Human.

Oh god, I can't. What if she doesn't want me here, at her house? What if Chief Swan is there? I wonder if he always keeps his gun loaded. They wouldn't hurt me, but it would be very bad for our cover….

What if she doesn't like me? I slump against a tree trunk, horror washing through me.

My cell phone buzzes and I lift it to my ear. "Edward! Go! Now!" The line goes dead.

Alice will be Alice. But dutifully I stand and start making my way through the trees. Bella's scent gets stronger and richer. I inhale one last time, and edge between several trees.

I stop in a large patch on ferns on the edge of the forest, and I spot Bella, and my heart lifts instantly. She looks so small and vulnerable, wrapped up in a faded quilt, a book clenched tightly in her hands. I read the title: Wuthering Heights. I'd never had much patience for that book. Cathy was such a harpy! And Heathcliff. Don't get me started…he's worse then Romeo.

I stare at Bella, and with a sharp jolt I realize that she's staring at me as well, though hardly for the same reason. I smile faintly and walk a little closer.

My dead heart nearly skips a beat as she raises one hand and curls a finger toward herself, irresistibly calling me toward her. I feel my breath getting shallow, and I can hear hers doing the same thing.

I stop ten feet away from her. _**Hello.**_

She narrows her eyes and signs back. What are you doing here?

I'm taken back by her hostility, and the possibility of rejection washes through me, instinctive and strong. I try to say something, but my fingers fumble. _**I-I wanted to see you.**_

Bella just looks at me serenely. Why? You didn't want to talk to me in Bio. So why now?

Oh god. How can I explain how I feel about her? I can't. It would scare her off. _**Why are you out here? It's getting dark…and cold.**_ I smile smugly as I watch her eyes roll. She knows I'm right.

I walk over to her and extend a hand. Eagerly she grasps it and I haul her up. She seems to note my lack of exertion, and as soon as her equilibrium steadies I let go of her hand. Already my body cries out from the lack of her warm, slender hand in mine.

She folds up her blanket, picks up her book and strides away, not looking back at me. I stand in the tall grass for a moment. A human has had the courage to turn their back on me. A vampire. A lethal, downright dangerous force. We don't make humans feel safe enough to turn away from, to expose their backs to us. The subconsciously realize the danger that we are.

But this waif-sized girl has done just that!

I catch up to her in a second and take the heavy, dew-soaked quilt from her hands. It's only the chivalrous and gentlemanly thing to do: after all, there aren't any puddles to lift her over.

Thanks.

I nod briefly in reply, then speed up slightly and open the back door for her as well. My first mother, Elizabeth, always told me to be courteous and to never suggest anything inappropriate to a lady.

But Bella…my god! She stirs in me something nobody ever has before.

I let the door fall shut behind me, and I set the quilt down on an empty chair at the kitchen table. It smells of Bella, and her scent lingers faintly around my shirt cuffs. I wonder if Esme will let me never wash this shirt….unfortunately, probably not. She's mildly fanatical about cleanliness.

I watch, mildly amused, as Bella stands in the kitchen for a second, obviously mulling over some sort of dilemma involving food. I don't need to be a telepath to know that. Then she rummages in the refrigerator and pulls out some hamburger that makes my stomach flip. Of course, when she bends over, I can't help but notice her perfectly shaped posterior….

I shake my head clear of that thought and take hold of her shoulder, spinning her around to face me. She turns around, surprised. _**Aren't you going to talk to me?**_

She stares defiantly up at me. Why should I?

_**Because I want to talk. **_

Inexplicably, she starts to blush. How I wish I could read her mind! That would make things so much easier!

Okay. What about?

Well, let's see. I've showed up at your house, completely unannounced, I'm most likely killing myself just to see you for a half hour and you can possibly wonder what I want to talk about? You! YOU, Bella! You, you, YOU!

No, wait. Mustn't frighten the human.

I sit down in a chair that smells strongly of Charlie-laundry detergent, sweat and pine-and kick it back onto two legs. Calm, Edward. C…a…l…m….don't frighten her, be subtle.

**You.**

Good job, Edward! That wasn't subtle in the slightest!

Bella's rosy blush turns a magnificent raspberry that I thought couldn't occur in nature and looks rather staggered. Oh, no. I came on too strong. I knew it! I just blew it. Right here.

But to my surprise, Bella replies. Me?

_**Yes. What are you doing this weekend? You know…the weekend of the dance….**_

Bella freezes and a look of pure horror comes over her delicate features. After several seconds she comes to, sets the revolting food on the counter and looks at me with fury in her eyes.

Are you _trying_ to be funny?!

Really, if she would only let me finish!

_**No. I heard you were going to Seattle and I wanted to know if you needed a ride. I don't think your truck can make it on one tank of gas.**_

That is none of your business, thank you, she replies haughtily.

_**The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business**_, I reply matter-of-factly, and make a face. I wish I didn't need so rude. Bella misinterprets my face for the food she's holding in her hands.

You don't like meat? She questions.

Not _that_ kind of meat, my lovely. _**I'm a…vegetarian.**_ I smile internally at my joke.

Okay. Well, why are you here? She demands.

_**I told you. I want to make up for being so rude in class today. And for laughing at your plight,**_ I think about that delicious memory. Mike Newton made such as ass of himself, thrusting himself upon Bella. But his mind is absolutely vile…his thoughts were awful…all were centered on Bella's…chest. And behind. Tyler Crowley's weren't much better, though at least his intentions were honorable.

Alright. Apology accepted. Bella grudgingly says, fulfilling my greatest wish at this moment.

_**I'm glad you're forgiven my rude behavior. I don't want you to be mad at me,**_ I assure her honestly. Her creamy forehead wrinkles in confusion-or is it concern? I hate not knowing!-and I hurry on. _**I was very rude to you, Bella. I wish to make it up to you. Do you want to go somewhere with me on Saturday?**_

Depends. Now she looks suspicious. This isn't promising. Where would we be going?

_**Seattle.**_ I dead-pan.

Be serious, please. For my sake.

_**I am being serious, but fine. And only for your sake.**_

Thanks. I appreciate it. When?

_**Saturday? I could pick you up.**_

Okay. But only because I need a ride.

This evening's been tough. Time to have a bit of fun. I stand up abruptly, the chair's legs scraping against the linoleum loudly. I realize with a sad shock that Bella cannot hear it. But I recover quickly and sign wickedly, _**Of course. Only because you need a ride…and the fact that you want to be with me.**_

I watch burgundy stain Bella's cheeks at my teasing, and the temptation is so strong! To bite the soft flesh beneath her jaw bone and draw out the crimson rivers rushing past, the blood coating my throat….

Bella turns around to hide her flaming cheeks, and I use the opportune moment: I make a break for it before I do something drastic, out the back door and through the woods.

I skid to a stop. I forgot to tell her when I'll pick her up! I dash back to the kitchen window, patting my pockets for a scrap of paper. I find a small scrap and a pen and scrawl a note-_Shall I pick you up at eight o clock?-_then I press my hand against the window and wave my free hand until I've caught Bella's attention.

I note with satisfaction her relieved expression, and I can't stop a stupid grin from slapping itself across my face. She nods shyly and ducks into the kitchen.

I watch her until I can no longer see her, then dash across the field behind her house into the woods, where I let loose a triumphant yell and collapse onto the ground. I've done it! I've done it! I stare up at the full moon and twinkling stars in exultation. Everything seems so much more beautiful then it did before. More vibrant. More alive.

I asked out the girl of my dreams.

But when I put it like that…it seems so trivial.

Oh well.

I have a date. With Isabella Swan. The most desirable girl in the entire world. Gorgeous. Perfect. Mortal.

And soon to be mine.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey, lovely readers!

I can't say how sorry I am for leaving all you guys in the lurch with this story, but I kind of lost interest in Twilight-and therefore, A New Perspective. Don't flame me, please! It's just the way it's gone, so don't yell at me for it.

Anyway, I've had several people ask me to take over the story, and one who PM'd me I said could take over, but I realized that it wasn't fair to everyone/anyone else who wanted to take over. So! This is what I'm going to do: Everyone who wants to take over my story will write the next chapter the way they think it will happen. Write Edward and Bella's date, people! Write it the way you want it to go down.

The chapter can be as long as you want, but if you submit it to me after May 13th, I will not consider it. That's your deadline. Make it work. So go! Go to work! Make Edward and Bella go on the best date ever. That's all there is to it.

Only two things: try not to make it smutty-remember, it's the first date! And two: Please try and keep your writing grammatically correct and whatnot. Once I choose someone it won't be my story anymore, but I will still care whether or not it's successful and looks like a real, non-crack story.

That's all. Get writing!


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